


Blood

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:55:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3112034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But jesus fuck, if poison tasted like you I'd drink it"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave any suggestions/ideas for stories you would like to read, I'm willing to have a go at them for you!!
> 
> Leave suggestions in the comments below :)

 

 He was the mysterious musician from a bar downtown, with long strands of hair and eyes that made me feel loved and important. He played Friday nights during happy hour and as I sipped on my martini, we made eye contact and I felt electric. It was a blur of eager hands and a messy blow-job that didn’t last very long. It was the faint smile that lingered on his lips as we kissed, and strong hands that steadied me on the walk home. 

The gods had handcrafted his body and his eyes were a gift from the devil himself, alluring, dangerous. He was like a whiff of fresh air, and I was hooked, he was a drug that my body couldn’t help but crave- the task of exploring the plains and dips and junctures of his body was something better than life itself. He kept me feeling alive, like I was on fire and it was so fucking addictive. He was made to be loved with passion and rapture, the type of love one daydreams about, and I willingly gave myself to him. The taste of his lips lingered for days and the trails of bruises he placed on my body whenever we made love, never left – a mark, a claim of sorts, to show that I belonged to him. 

 

* * *

 

 

His back was faced towards the bed, and the window was open, leaving a cool breeze in place of the warm air that surrounded us the night before. His right arm was hanging out the window and smoke was pouring from his mouth like a waterfall. I questioned if I was still drunk, because the longer I stared, the more dazed I became. His back was toned, and his hair was messy and long, cascading down to his shoulder blades.

As if he knew I'd awoken his eyes were suddenly on mine, and I wanted to look away but I couldn't. His eyes were clouded over, a mixture of sleep and euphoria dancing within the confines of his irises and he was like a dream.

Slowly crawling from the warmth of the crumpled, sex stained bed sheets, I threw on a black t-shirt that smelt of sex and cigarettes and expensive cologne. His eyes were fixated on my body and he smiled, and he was up and walking towards me. He looked so fucking good, cigarette hanging from his slender fingers and he was naked. He wrapped his free arm around my waist, pulling me close and kissing me slowly, passionately. 

"Hi," it was that simple and that perfect. His voice was like honey- sweet, smooth. A smile that brought his dimples to life adorned his cheeks and I felt so much more awake now.

"Niall" I whispered into his shoulder and his smile grew and he replied "Harry". He pulled back to look at me, and his eyes made me melt, made me feel something I hadn't felt in a long time. He looked around the room, a look of adoration on his face and I flushed.

"Your place is really nice" he spoke "has lots of character". I lived in a little studio apartment in the Upper East Side. The two room loft was my home with its exposed brick wall, and a bed that sat on the floor. The various plant pots and cacti that scattered the apartment, were gifted from my parents (as a moving out gift) and the little sketches that littered the walls - courtesy of Zayn - brought it to life, and I liked the feeling of being in a place filled with so much meaning. 

He moved back towards the window, pulling me along with him, our fingers entwined. He sat on the ledge, looking out at the streets below, the city showed a rush of people and cars and the sounds of many, blurring into one. I sat opposite him and he raised the half smoked cigarette to my lips, I let him place it between them and I inhaled, feeling a rush of heat in my bones. He intently stared at the way my lips moved as I exhaled, and we sat there in silence for what felt like hours, observing each other. 

Our silence was corrupted by the sounds of the kettle loudly boiling, and I knew Zayn was most probably up, sipping on green tea as he stained his blank canvases with beautiful images that seeped from his mind, his soul. 

"Room-mate?" Harry whispered, looking straight at me, and the way the early morning sun hit his face was breathtaking. I merely nodded, offering a small smile and I got up heading towards the closed door, looking over my shoulder - a way to ask if he was coming, to show that he was welcome.

He took one last pull from the cigarette and flicked it out into the city below. He got up and threw on his black jeans, and his leather jacket, the butterfly on his stomach still in plain sight, a fucking sight sent from God himself, and it made my knees weak. 

///

Instant coffee was quickly made and poured into huge mugs, a weak attempt at a hangover cure. Harry didn't seem to mind, and as I handed him the cup, he graciously accepted with a small thank you and a smile that showed his teeth. He was oddly cute, for an extremely tall boy in all black and an expensive looking leather jacket. His little smile grew the longer I stared at him. 

"This is Harry" I beamed, and Zayn looked up from his sketch book - a figure that resembled myself, scribed into the page - and he looked hesitant and I knew he wouldn't be impressed- the look on his face portraying one of: a one night stand? seriously. He was always looking out for me, I meant a lot to him, and we were a family, he was very protective.  

Zayn closed his sketchpad and got up, lit a cigarette, and went into his room, closing the door behind him. Merely looking Harry up and down on his departure.

"Sorry bout' em" I turned toward him "He's like protective or some shit" Harry just shrugged, and he moved closer, and our chests were touching. 

"I gotta go, okay?" I looked up him and tried not to look too upset "Can I maybe grab your number? I find you very interesting" he concluded, sure of his words. And wow, he's so genuine. I put my name in his phone under Niallllllll. He smiled down at me and he sealed the promise of calling me soon with a fucking hot kiss that left me breathless. And then he was out the door, chelsea boots thumping down the hall.  _  
_

He'd called back thirty seconds later and I giggled, fucking giggled like a teenage girl and his deep laugh resonated through the speaker. 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
